
According to Wikipedia “400 (four hundred) is the natural number following 399 and preceding 401.” just so you know.
According to Wikipedia “400 (four hundred) is the natural number following 399 and preceding 401.” just so you know.
This is a window I work on now. It is from a church built in 1936 that got partially burned down 2 years ago. They will replace most of the old windows with new, better isolated ones, but my task is to preserve 3 of the original windows. In the two little videos below, you can see how I put in the glass panes, something I learned not so long ago when I started working here. It is satisfying work to preserve something that was almost given up.
I still remember when I bought this Coolio cd. It was 1994, and I lived in Curacao, one of the former Dutch Caribbean Islands. I didn’t listen much to radio back then, but I often went to one of the few record stores and just browsed through de cd’s and picked the ones that spoke to me to listen to in the store, that way, I had a nice couple of hours of listening to unknown music and with some luck some new music to take home for keeps.
I never had a specific taste for rap music, but I started listening to Ice-T and Ice Cube around that same time because of the seriousness of their lyrics and what they tried to tell. They sometimes fooled around also, but this Coolio cd was for sure more lighthearted. I still listen to it every now and then, that’s why I keep my cd player around and all the CDs I ever bought, I am a sentimental guy, and these old CDs bring me back to those day’s like little time machines in a box.
I have not followed his career or life, but I hope he had a good life and a peaceful way of leaving us all…
The number you can listen to and read the lyrics from is his most famous song “Gangsta’s paradise, it has some good lyrics, and as a part-time philosopher, I can pick and appreciate some lines that are, for me, timeless in the describing the world we still live in.
words have been hanging out there like on the banner with hardly any fibers left the words disappeared absorbed at most by the surrounding I ask around but only dare to look if someone knows afraid for the answer I decide it has been hanging there far too long
The houses on all sides white in the sun grey in the shadow its calm here the road I take is made of grass the buildings move slowly they disappear till around the corner I hope as a last fleeting thought
The little kid in me disappeared when I arrived for the first time I still see him staring from a distant memory triggered to hide not from my stare but a sudden movement unfamiliarity I slowly move away as not to scare him for good
Most of us can almost
see the labels
tact on us
before we can struggle
You looked at me with no clue what I was I stood up walked away and you followed me but only with that look
You get reined in a lot maybe its the world around you or you that dances too much I suggest an other outlet so you can see this downpour and do a waltz in it
I've only listened to your inside
but I will recognize you
if I see you on the street
A little disturbance in symmetry does not disturb me it just makes me wonder why
We all live alone pretending to look at the world through misformed glass the windows don’t open in this cellar we breathe through cracks we made we love the fresh air to get in not out there
My “fresh air”, so to say, is reading books from people that I can relate to. I would like to meet people that are still alive and have similar thoughts like these long-dead philosophers, but no one has taught me the secret sign that like-minded people give each other when they cross each other in life. I like to read Nietzsche, but it doesn’t really matter which philosopher you read because they all share a willingness to search and question and have all seen the underlying problems. Their answers might be different, but I don’t think that answers are that important to get wiser; maybe answers function is being an anchor, and having one might tempt you to throw it overboard in rougher weather or when tired of sailing
Underneath are some quotes from one of Nietzsche’s last books: Twilight of the idols, or how to philosophize with a hammer. The hammer he uses is not one we use for driving nails but one the doctor uses to test reflexes and abnormalities in the nervous system…just so you know. Stucked between these quotes is a famous one “Out of life’s school of war: What does not destroy me, makes me stronger.” Because of all the (mis)use, it is now some kind of a platitude for me, but that doesn’t take away that you can still write a book about this one quote if you want.
I have all kinds of music on my phone, but besides Alanis Morissette, I have only all the albums of Eminem on it. I don’t exactly know why I like his music; it is not his lyrics; he often goes so fast that it is hard to follow for me, it is probably his energy. I like watching YouTube videos where they react to and explain his music, which gives me another appreciation and understanding of why he is praised so highly. I think he has a lot of talent, and he found a lucrative outlet for that; but he is still the tortured artist he’s always been, but he also stayed true to himself and his art.
The green door on the first floor I forget its color inside sitting in front of the window staring outside eyes closed watching the lights white inside moving on the rhythm from the outside
My thoughts are making towers of Babel without me
I have made a new website where I collected some of the pictures I liked the most from my picture-a-day project. You can go to the site by clicking the link “pictures” under the Nochrisis logo and then “best of days.” Or follow this link: Nochrisisphotos.com
I am now on day 2349, but sometimes I post more pictures in one day, so there are around 3300 photos to be found in the posts on this blog. I don’t always take pictures daily, but I edit the pictures on the day I post them. I have so my routines while editing pictures, but I have to say that it is still a creative process for me. Most of the time, I set some kind of time limit, not only to save some time, but the result of your creativity often benefits from limiting yourself in time, and other boundaries, is my experience. Writing the little poem-like texts with each picture has also never been a problem. Each picture has given me some kind of inspiration, and most of the time, a sentence will pop up in my head, and that’s the one I write down. It happens very seldom that I have to erase that first sentence because I like the challenge of sticking with it. I often take out words once I think I am finished; this leaves the poems short and to the point and not really poetic in the traditional sense, I think, but who am I to judge? Writing these little poems or texts is just fun to do, and it makes me smile each time I think I am so clever…